


Stars

by AlexTheFryingPan



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, M/M, R my son, based on a poem by Robert Frost, deep talks about life and shit, e my son, i guess i don't really have to tag anything else because it's seriously unnecessary, it's called 'A Question', originally posted on FanFiction.net for Caesar's Palace's Monthly Oneshot Contest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-19
Updated: 2017-04-19
Packaged: 2018-10-20 18:30:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10668348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexTheFryingPan/pseuds/AlexTheFryingPan
Summary: “Come on, R, we were having, like, a moment right then,” said Enjolras, but his voice was light.“Oh, too true,” said Grantaire. “I was honestly about to start weeping, telling you all sorts of stuff from my childhood. Honestly, I might have told my whole life story, ending right here, on a broken down truck in the middle of nowhere with our fearless Apollo.”





	Stars

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is my first Enjoltaire fic (and it's the first thing I've written in ages) so bear with me here. Anyway, enjoy!

“Sometimes,” said Grantaire, looking up at the stars with his head resting on his hands, laying across the roof of his truck. “I don’t think that you’re completely human.”

“And why would that be?” asked Enjolras. His voice was soft from his spot leaned against one of the tires, but it carried to Grantaire.

Grantaire hummed. “You care enough to risk everything. For just about anything. You almost got run over by a car while protecting a puppy and yelling to anyone that would listen about animal abuse and it’s injustices last weekend.”

Enjolras sighed, and he watched his breath curl up into the sky for a moment. “Are you saying you don't love Patria?”

Grantaire let out a gruff chuckle. “I can’t believe you named a dog Patria. You might as well have called it ‘France’. Or even just ‘The French Revolution’. Rolls right off the tongue, too. Perfect dog name.”

“Come on, R, we were having, like, a moment right then,” said Enjolras, but his voice was light.

“Oh, too true,” said Grantaire. “I was honestly about to start _weeping_ , telling you all sorts of stuff from my childhood. Honestly, I might have told my whole life story, ending right here, on a broken down truck in the middle of nowhere with our fearless Apollo.”

Enjolras snorted. “Sometimes, I wonder why I ever thought that you weren’t anything less than a huge nerd all those two weeks ago.”

“Oh, come on,” said Grantaire, glancing down at Enjolras, who wore a small, satisfied smile. “I think I made a valiant effort.”

“Yeah,” said Enjolras. “To help us succeed.”

Grantaire looked back up at the sky. “You’re just trying to make me feel like a failure, now,” he said. “I think I did a perfectly adequate job of making everyone I know and love hate me.”

“Nah,” said Enjolras.

There was a pause, both quite content with everything going on around them. The stars in their multitudes gazing over them. The field that spread out around them for miles, wheat swaying around every time the wind even so much as twitched. The second-hand truck that Grantaire had had for seven years, and the previous owner for at least twice that, that Grantaire only kept around so that he could put art supplies and Bossuet in the trunk.

“Do you really think all this is worth it?” asked Grantaire after a minute, his voice softer than before, but more demanding.

“What do you mean?” asked Enjolras.

“I mean,” said Grantaire, sitting up so the he could illustrate his point with his hands.

Enjolras was looking up at him, curious, as Grantaire gestured around.

“Do you think that all this _stuff_ , this terrible, horrible stuff, is really worth it? Like, seriously. Is it really worth being born if we only end up with scars and tears on the other end?”

“Loaded question,” said Enjolras. Grantaire just stared at him, waiting for an answer. Enjolras looked away, gazing back at the stars.

“Well, I would think so,” he finally said.

“Why?”

“Well, why wouldn’t I?” Enjolras asked. “I think that it might depend. Of course all that pain is worth being alive. Like, if you change the world or something. And, I mean, I like a whole lotta people that are a little torn around the edges, but they still seem to think that everything is worth it. Maybe it just depends on what you’re going through, or something.”

A pause.

“I thought you would have a stronger argument on that one,” mumbled Grantaire, laying back down. “Seemed right up your alley.”

“I’m absolutely chock full of surprises,” said Enjolras. “You should know.”

“Did I just detect a hint of sarcasm?” asked Grantaire, a grin forming.

“Be serious,” Enjolras replied.

“I am wild,” said Grantaire.

Enjolras smiled fondly.

Another lull in the conversation.

Enjolras suddenly stood up, dusting off his jeans as he did. He turned back to Grantaire.

“Move over. I want to look at the stars with you,” he said.

Grantaire raised an eyebrow as he propped himself on his elbows to look at Enjolras better. “Isn’t that we’ve been doing?”

Enjolras gave a long-suffering sigh. “Why won’t you just let me hold your stupid hand on your stupid truck in the middle of nowhere? Is that really too much to ask?”

(It wasn’t.)


End file.
